


Apparently there's a cheat code to happiness

by Divine_shot



Series: Gamers [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mycroft is still a boss, Poor John, Sherlock still cheats, The whole damn yard is on it now, Tournaments, Video & Computer Games, Video Game Mechanics, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Divine_shot/pseuds/Divine_shot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, still plays video games on his off times with his blogger John. Unfortunately everyone else gets involved as well.</p><p>Heaven help England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The claw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chucksauce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucksauce/gifts), [WritingQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/gifts), [Dirty_Corza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/gifts).



> Sequel to Nobody Likes Bloody Campers. You don't have to read it to understand this but it will help.
> 
> I blame Chucksauce, WritingQuill, and Dirty_Corza for giving me the motivation with their own wonderful stories to write more wacky video game hijinks so this is for you three! If you don't want me to ummm...give representation/gift it/etc. let me know. I never gifted anyone something so ummm...
> 
> -hides-
> 
> Things from your respective fic(s) will be mentioned (eventually) in this story.
> 
> READ: It might turn into Johnlock in the future with Mystrade so I'm warning you guys who are not into that now. If you want slash let me know in the future. For now its Gen.
> 
> Do not take this story seriously and yes I know where the title is from. It won't be that 'angsty.' Not beta'ed and not brit picked
> 
> Guessing on the pence pieces. I thought about using five pence for one game but that seemed too small so I used 30 or so, which is close to being 50 cents in terms of conversion. If someone wants to correct me or know the right conversion let me know.
> 
> Bee brooch: http://imgur.com/zGWwWul
> 
> And the Bee neck pillow: http://imgur.com/OZ1zJGs

**_"Brilliant."_ **

An overused adjective that John found himself saying every time Sherlock did something extraordinary. The man deserved it in his opinion.

The detective managed to solve a triple homicide in under three days, ignoring lack of sleep, substance, and other higher powers breathing down his neck. Sherlock considered not even taking the case when he discovered that his brother had an involvement with the person who murdered the victims. The only deciding factor was the fact that Sherlock hasn't had a case in ages and John still restricted his video game usage.

_"I consider this a lesser evil than smoking wouldn't you agree?"_

_John gave him a look and Sherlock huffed much like a child, arms folded while they were in the process of examining evidence at Bart's._

_"That doesn't give you a legit reason to bring a 3DS along Sherlock."_

John sagged in the plastic chair in front of the familiar wooden desk. Both him and Lestrade sat in the latter's office after being dismissed by the black suits of the government.

"I'm not sure if I should be happy at the lack of paperwork or frustrated that this was pulled under the rug by the government."

"I know that feeling; Mycroft rubs people the wrong way with that." John didn't mind the ginger umbrella carrying man (some of the time,) but he hated the feel of being helpless and strung along like a puppet in the shadows.

Lestrade shrugged his shoulders in defeat and John did the same, ignoring his ego wilting. "Well do you and Sherlock want to go for a pint then in celebration?"

John turned to ask but realized that Sherlock was no where to be found. "I guess I have to take a rain check on that drink Greg."

The DI noticed the absence of the detective as well. "Why does he do that? I don't blame him in this case but still..." John sighed; the DI had enough consideration to offer him a drive back home and mentioned he would keep an eye out for Sherlock.

John walked up the stairs to his flat; running into Mrs. Hudson whom hasn't seen Sherlock either. The doctor waited a few hours, making himself a cuppa and settling down before texting Sherlock.

**Where are you? -JW**

It took another thirty minutes before Sherlock did reply finally.

**Down at the arcade -SH**

John re-read that, blue eyes widening. "Bloody hell Sherlock." He assumed Sherlock would calm down his game playing after the previous incident of hacking and being banned from a company's server and the doctor's lecturing but habits die hard. The blond male rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'It's the better of two evils.' He tried to reason with himself.

John ignored how the phone vibrated again in his hand and waited before reading.

**I might need help -SH**

'Help with what?' John wondered, curious and a bit frustrated. Relaxing postponed, John put his mug in the sink before putting on his brown jacket and heading back at the door.

* * *

It took John a cab and a good thirty minutes to figure out the directions Sherlock emailed him using google maps.

He ended up in the odd section of England near Cullen Way. A large building stood out before him; bricks painted in what appeared to be a giant hand and gaming stick pad.

John tried to text Sherlock again but received no reply. 'Why am I nervous? It's just a bloody video game center.' For some reason apprehension rolled over his body in waves. He sucked in a breath and went inside quickly, glancing around the moderately housed area. Despite the eery atmosphere it had a homely comforting ambiance with various age groups of people on the machines.

Part of him itched to go over to the old school button and stick ones with Pac-man, Mrs. Pac-man, and Galaxian. 'They even have Area 51 here?' The temptation to goof off and play rung high, making him squeeze his fingers into a tight fist. _ **  
**_

It didn't take long for John to find Sherlock. Most of the people lined up and surrounded an area near the far right of the arcade center, cheering and ooh'ing. When the blond male near closer he could see the tell-tale black curls even past the crowd.

"Sherlock?" John gasped out after pushing and jostling through the bustle of people. The tall consulting detective, decked out in his coat and scarf, hunched over what appeared to be a crane like game. A large pile of toys, stuffed plushies, as well as trinkets stood in a staggering pile next to him.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as the crane reached above. They changed emotions rapidly; the blue hues standing out as the crane grasp onto the prize and pulled it up. A smile almost graced the man's features until the item fell out of the crane at the last minute right before it went down the chute.

"Damnit!" The dark haired man growled out, his eyes growing dark into swirling gray as he kicked the machine with his foot. "Oh hello John." He barely acknowledge him, focusing on the crane again.

"Sherlock did you spend the last few hours trying to get a specific item that you could had bought from the internet?"

"Yes." Sherlock put in three more ten pence coins into the machine. The crowd cheered him on again as he stuck out his tongue in concentration. 

 John watched the man, past thirty, shaking his behind in the air and fingers jerking the controls in quick motions as he reached into the back of the machine with the crane. After a few jumbled wobbly tries the item fell into the bin.

"One down." Sherlock rose up and turned around, showing John a small black box in his gloved hands.

"One? Do you mean you want another one?"

Sherlock huffed. "Of course John there's always more than one prize to be sought after." He showed him the item that he attempted to get earlier close to the deposit box and wedged in between the poptart cat as well as the elf boy in green.

John groaned out loud; putting his hand against his face. "Oh for the love of God Sherlock!" The blogger sighed before giving up in resignation. "Move a bit; let me give it a try." He grunted and nugged Sherlock over, getting his hands onto the controls; going into his jacket pockets to see if he had any pence coins instead of pounds.

* * *

The blond doctor carried a good portion (correction: most) of the prizes in two cloth bags.

Sherlock had his hands in his pockets, his belstaff scarf now housing a bee brooch on the tail end. The yellow and blacks stood out as a contrast to the vivid blue of the scarf. John couldn't help but stare at it.

Sherlock obviously ignored him.

"So what are you going to do with all of these other prizes?"

The detective seem to disregard John's question until he stopped near one of his regulars of the homeless network. A little girl around thirteen or so peered up at him, eyes showing respect in a small pink scarf and long brown button down jacket.

"You always wanted a teddy bear didn't you?" 

The brown haired girl hesitated before nodding. "Yes Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock reached into the bag, John shifting so he could get better access, before handing the girl the bear he won at the arcade. "The owner said if you aquire any coins to stop by the arcade on 10A; he'll give you a discount."

The girl's brown eyes lit up and John couldn't help but melt at that look. "Oh thank you so much Mr. Holmes! Thank you!"

They stopped by a few more areas, Sherlock giving various teenagers, children, and even adults toys, plushies, and figures.

"You really giving me this rare limited edition Hatsume Miku figure Mr. Holmes?" Billy, one of the more prominate members, raised an eyebrow. "You do know how much its worth right? You could sell it for a pretty pound."

"I have no use for it; I aquired what I wanted."

Billy snickered as he gazed down at the bee brooch and nodded. "Alright." He waved as the two men parted, walking down the main street before flagging a cab down.

"I can't believe you gave away all of those items to the homeless." John mused as he opened the door to 221b with a lighter load, glad to be finally home.

"Of course. The foolish Yard wouldn't appreciate them besides Lestrade." Sherlock paced inside before flopping down on the sofa with his coat on.

"What about your brother? Maybe he could had given them to charity?"

Sherlock barely turned his head to give John  _a look._  "Not likely. The organization would pick out through the lot of them before giving the remains to the children; special cases for publicity rather than the ones who would really need and cherish them."

John wonder was that Sherlock saying that he rather do it himself than depend on his brother. He didn't ponder on it too long when Sherlock raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in longing. The blond male sighed before handing Sherlock what he wanted before going into the kitchen.

"You want a cuppa?" He yelled, hearing a muffled reply back. John set the kettle on the stove before peering out in the doorway; he couldn't help but chuckle at Sherlock with his eyes closed and resting against his new bee neck pillow.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guessing on the pence pieces. I thought about using five pence for one game but that seemed too small so I used 30 or so, which is close to being 50 cents in terms of conversion. If someone wants to correct me or know the right conversion let me know.
> 
> Bee brooch: http://imgur.com/zGWwWul
> 
> And the Bee neck pillow: http://imgur.com/OZ1zJGs


	2. 2600

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to really look up information about this system in general because I couldn't remember all of the games that were on it. But its close I guess.

Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, was out sick.

Now many people wouldn't consider this unusual but John lived with the man for the odd plus years and he rarely got sick outside of a case from what his flatmate told him. He believed him because John would end up with more colds and bugs from the clinic and Sherlock never did.

Until today. John tried to remember what Sherlock could have done to catch something but all he could come up with was the time that it rained and Sherlock spent the whole day either at Bart's or questioning people at hospitals over their last case. John told him to take a shower and rest but the detective oh so determined ignored his advice and didn't change his clothes until close to sunrise.

Sherlock held himself up in the bedroom (or the bathroom) with a barely nasal reply of "John if you get sick as well its pointless! I need my blogger for the cases!"

John fought his doctor side, reading a newspaper and eating toast at the sitting room table. 

"Yo ho! Boys!" Mrs. Hudson's voice came up the stairs. "John dear can you get the door?"

The man shuffled towards the entrance and opened the door, surprised to see the landlady with a steaming pot of food in a ceramic pot behind oven mitts.

"What do you have there?" He tried to help her further but she shooed him away.

"Poor dear has a really bad cold so I made him porridge." She gave out a sigh and went towards Sherlock's room up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door, calling softly.

"I don't think he wants to be bothered-" John warned her but felt stupid when it opened up for her and she went inside.

'Of all of the things. Does Sherlock even care he might get Mrs. Hudson sick too?' The doctor grumbled to himself and went back to reading the paper. Several minutes went and he didn't hear any noises. No complaining, no violin, nothing. 'I wonder what she's doing up there?'

A few minutes later their landlady came back down giggling madly. She turned towards John but broke out laughing once more, her voice trailing down the hall. "Oh dear I haven't had that much fun in years."

 

* * *

 

The next day Mycroft managed to get into their apartment as usual.

John found the older Holmes waiting for him when he came home from the clinic. "Hello John Watson."

"Mycroft." John replied back in fake saccharine. He already had to deal with a grumpy younger Holmes and the last thing he needed to end his day would be the older manipulating one. The blond doctor did a double take when he finally took in what the British Government had on.

Mycroft wore a medical mask over his face along with gloves and what appeared to be a black apron over his suit and pants. The flat appeared to be reorganized and...spotless? 'Oh hell.' John told himself to investigate later and find out what bugs the older Holmes planted this time. If Sherlock didn't have such a bad cold the detective could help him.

"I cleaned the apartment for you since my brother decided to spread his germs all over the flat when I arrived."

John didn't reply at first because he knew Sherlock did that on purpose as a weak attempt to make his brother sick and the thought almost sent him laughing. "I don't think he wants to be bothered Mycroft."

Mycroft waved him off and shook his head. "Non-sense. My brother is stubborn the most when he's ill. He considers his body nothing but a lesser means for his mind. The last time he had a bug I had to personally monitor him after a trip to the emergency room so he wouldn't end up in extended intensive care."

John once again held his tongue at the fact that Sherlock  _never_ did that around him. In fact the man would take great lengths to make sure he would get better soon so John wouldn't get sick, even spraying the doorknobs.

A half garbled snarl ran out from the top of the stairs near Sherlock's bedroom. John couldn't pick up what was said but Mycroft apparently did as he narrowed his eyes and started to tread up the stairs.

John debated if he should follow but decided to stay out of the Holmes feud this once. He kept his guard though, hovering near the staircase just in case.

Several minutes passed and the doctor wondered if something happened at the silence that followed. 'I pray Sherlock didn't attempt to kill his brother.' A loud scream ran out even through the door and John's heart jumped in his chest. He ran up quickly but paused when Mycroft appeared again.

The British Government himself walked out of Sherlock's bedroom  _laughing._

John stood there, astonished and concerned. He thought he heard Sherlock laughing as well before Mycroft closed the door. The ginger haired man shook his head, tugging off his gloves before pulling down his mask,  _still laughing._

When he met John Watson he paused. Not faltering his ice mask returned back to his face and his features smoothed down. He nodded; making sure to get his umbrella before he went back out of the door.

 

* * *

 

Two days later John came home to another unexpected occurrence.

'Greg?' DI Gregory Lestrade imparted in their flat this time. John noticed the man's jacket on the coat rack near the door. He heard the silver haired man's voice ran out as he walked down the stairs to the entrance.

"Oh John!" Greg smiled at the sight of the other man and shook John's hand when offered. "I wasn't expecting you; remind me to invite you out for a pint soon."

"What brings you here?"

The Inspector shrugged and started to put on his jacket. "I haven't heard from Sherlock in days so I thought something happened to him. His brother texted me about him being sick so I decided to bring him a present as well as a few other items. The Yard even pitched in and gave him cards."

"Are you serious?" John wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, especially at the fact that Mycroft had Greg's number of all things.

"Yeah I was surprised too but I guess sick people bring out the other side in folks." Lestrade turned up his collar and grimaced at how he did it like a certain other male. "Tell him that I had a blast and I hope he gets better."

"Blast? What?" John questioned but Lestrade left before he could reply.

John walked up the stairs to his flatmate's bedroom and knocked loudly. "Sherlock?"

"John how many times do I have to tell you-"

The man cut him off; glaring at the door. "I want to know what's going on and if so help me God if you don't open this door right now I'm going to call your brother about a conspiracy theory and ban you from video game networks-"

Sherlock cracked his door open and replied in a nasal tone; a type of cooling pad on his head. "I'm sick, what else?"

John rolled his eyes and barged his way in, ignoring how the dark haired man huffed at him in indignation. Sherlock's room, unlike the sitting area and the kitchen remain cleaned in general. He always admired the coloring; various shades of cool tones along with scientific posters. A futon laid on the floor next to the small telly that he (assumed) was confiscated the last time the detective held himself in here. 

"What was Greg doing up here besides giving you gifts?"

Sherlock sat down on the makeshift bed area with a grunt and wrapped himself with the duvet that he gathered from his bed. "Playing Pong and Pac-man."

"Wait what?"

Sherlock glanced at him at the corner of his eye before turning back to the telly; reaching over to put a ginger lollipop in his mouth from a box of them. "Pong and Pac-man. I managed to buy an Atari system along with a few other moderate retro video games. Mrs. Hudson seems to enjoy the shooters and my brother likes Tron."

"So everyone who stopped by-"

"Was playing video games yes." Sherlock pulled out a stuffed brown scottish terrier along from somewhere with a paddle controller. He settled both of them on his lap as he booted up the Atari 2600. [  
](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paddle_\(game_controller\))

"The dog..." John wanted to know the story behind that. He noticed cards, tissues and various kinds of medications surrounding him along with what appeared to be cold case files. But the dog seemed out of place, not something Lestrade would give the detective. 'Maybe Mrs. Hudson?'

Sherlock chewed around the lollipop. "Mycroft brought it to remind me of my sentimental past with Redbeard."

'Redbeard?' "Wait you had a dog?" This was new. Sherlock rarely told about his past. He never expected the man to be an animal lover.

Sherlock didn't reply, instead intent on staring at the telly as he started up what appeared to be Combat; the shooter tank game.

John contemplated and decided to come closer, settling near the sick man. "Hand me the other controller. You know Harry used to have this mean cat and..."

* * *

 

John grumbled as he sniffed. "Hand me the tissues. Please."

Sherlock chewed another ginger lollipop. "I told you John. I warned you this would happen."

"Shut up Sherlock."

Both men were in the living room sick, huddled in front of the telly in the same duvet. They played Dig dug as they tried to get the man past the monsters and lower into the area. John's body ached, his nose ran, and he knew he wouldn't hear the last of it from the detective. But the other day brought a new insight for John, to become close to the person he considered a good friend. He learned a bit about Sherlock and he doesn't regret it, even though he knew he would have to deal with a nagging man and a cold for the next three days.

"Now it will take forever before the both of us will be well to take on cases over a six!"

John only shoved the man with his shoulder as he blew his nose. 

 


End file.
